Never Going to Leave This Bed
by In The Name
Summary: Six nights. Six years. Patrick Jane tries to fall asleep but there always seems to be something stopping him, someting on his mind. Song fic based on the song of the same name by Maroon 5.


**So here is the fic I've been hinting at in my other stories. It took me a while, a really long while, due to a mixture of writer's block, procrastination and laziness. Despite all this, I've finished it and I'm proud of it. It's my first attempt at a song fic so here goes nothing! I did twist around the words to suit my own meaning though. Warning about some language towards the end. :S So here is my fic, after my prolonged absence. ENJOY! **

**Oh yes, and this is set just before the start of the series. Now, on with the show!**

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><p><span>Never Going To Leave This Bed<span>

_Year 1 _

Jane lay in his make-shift bed in his Malibu house. In his house, because it was not his home, not anymore. He couldn't sleep; he could only stare at the red smiley face taunting him. It was ironic, really, that a smiling face could bring such misery. He'd met some people who didn't believe it, but they'd never seen one drawn in the blood of their family. He pitied them, those who did not know loss, for without loss you cannot know love. Not as thoroughly at least. He loved his family more now than he did before, although some would call what he was feeling "grief" but he knew better. They were always on his mind, and he loved them enough to hunt down the man that did this to him, to them.

It was strange how the characteristics society valued most could only be acquired through sufferance. How could someone be strong without fighting against something? How could someone be brave without facing their fears? How could someone be faithful without having something test that faith? You could not be a survivor without having survived.

Jane thought about that for a while, had he survived? He'd gone through hell when his family was murdered, but had he come out the other side? No, it would not be over until he killed the bastard who was responsible for the deaths of so many. What he was doing couldn't even be called living, let alone surviving. He was no survivor.

But Lisbon, she was a survivor if he'd ever seen one. She'd suffered the loss of her mother at a young age but she'd survived. She'd suffered from beatings courtesy of her drunken father, but she'd survived. She saw the aftermaths of heinous crimes everyday, but she didn't let the weight of it crush her, she survived it. She held the weight of her past as well as her present, she was strong. She was a survivor.

In another time, another universe, he would have hoped to be like her. To be strong enough to move on. But in the day and age in which he lived, it was not an option. He was living, breathing for one reason and one reason alone. To kill Red John.

The night stretched on, Jane tired but unable to allow himself the luxury of sleep, or rather he was protecting himself from that sleep. He did not sleep for fear of reliving that dreadful night when he returned home to find his lovely wife and child slaughtered in their own home. He did not sleep for fear of dreaming of a happy ending of which he was undeserving. He wouldn't let himself think foolish things such as what lay on the other side of the rainbow when he was awake, but his subconscious would sometimes try to slip them into his dreams, the sneaky bastard. In a way, those were almost worse than the nightmares. With the nightmares he awoke with a sense of guilt and resignation but with the dreams he woke with a crippling hope, tormenting him with an unobtainable future.

Sleep was a small price to pay for escaping these nightmares, if only temporarily, he thought. But there was more to pay, he had to deal with his waking nightmares, ones that he couldn't escape, not on his own. His mind tormented him with thoughts of the elusive Red John, leaving him feeling like he was stuck in traffic when Red John was already speeding off the highway towards an unknown destination. No matter what Jane tried to think about, he always circled back to Red John. So Jane didn't try anymore, he accepted this form of self-torture because who was he to be allowed a night without these nightmares? He was a man who'd gotten his family killed because of his arrogance, his hubris. So no, he did not deserve a moment of peace.

The hours stretched on and without even resting his eyes for more than a second, he thought the night would never end. He thought that he was never going to leave this bed.

_You push me_

_I don't have the strength to_

_Resist or control you_

_So take me down_

_Take me down_

Xxxx

_Year 2 _

Jane lay on his trusty couch in the bullpen, staring up at the ceiling. He no longer went to his house at night; he'd only end up back at the good old CBI anyway. So he spent his nights in the bullpen, staring at the stain that had startlingly similar traits to the one and only king of rock and roll.

If he were honest, he'd be able to say that what Lisbon had told him that night when they'd been so close to getting Red John was what kept him awake most nights. When she told him that there were people who cared about him, who needed him, while not-so-subtly implying that she cared about him, she needed him, he felt a spark of hope. He hated that spark. That hope that he'd felt, it caused doubt. He had begun to doubt whether he really deserved all the pain and misery he brought upon himself by staying hung up on the past and Red John.

He tried to banish these thoughts quickly, but like weeds they always seemed to come back, to pop up at the most undesirable times. He knew what he'd signed up for when he'd signed his future away to the pursuit of Red John. But still he experienced doubt and he did not like it. Not one bit.

But the worst part was that at times he could swear that Lisbon knew. After all, he had killed Hardy, his only link to Red John, to save her. Sometimes he would catch a glance or a soft, knowing smile upon her face and he would just know. She knew. And this made him nervous. His well-constructed mask that he held in place was beginning to falter. He couldn't have that.

With all these thoughts running through his head, Red John never seemed far behind. His lack of progress was frustrating. It seemed like as close as he would get, he was always five paces behind. He needed a plan. He spent most nights either contemplating Red John or contemplating his insecurities. Whichever it was, it always got him worked up and he couldn't get to sleep. Not that he really wanted to sleep anyway; those nightmares hadn't subsided or diminished. Although a new one had been added to the mix.

He didn't know why this new nightmare plagued his nights, but he didn't believe in dream analysis. This one featured Red John, of course, but also differing members of the team. In his dreams Red John had taken one of them, forcing him to watch as Red John maimed and disfigured them before killing them without mercy. As frightening as this nightmare was, what scared him the most was the feeling he got after these dreams. It seemed that he was afraid of losing them, it seemed that he cared. This was unacceptable. How had he let it get this far?

_You hurt me_

_But do I deserve this?_

_You make me so nervous_

_Calm me down_

_Calm me down_

Xxxx

_Year 3_

This makeshift bed, upon which Jane lay, was really uncomfortable. He couldn't explain it. It was perfectly fine when he'd brought it up to the attic; he'd given it a test run and everything. So why is it that he couldn't relax now? He felt like his mind was going a hundred miles an hour and he was just along for the ride. He just stared at the ceiling of the attic, it was dark and cold. It wasn't like the ceiling in the bullpen, with the face of Elvis if you looked at it just right. That ceiling was warm, light; he could just lose himself in his thoughts with that ceiling. Not with this one. This ceiling made him feel isolated and constricted at the same time, like he was suffocating with too much air. It didn't make any sense.

But although he didn't like it, he forced himself to dwell in the attic day after day. He was sure this… feeling would pass. He knew he'd be back to normal, well _his_ normal, in no time. The trick was to keep this from the team, from Lisbon in particular. She seemed to have an emotional investment in his well-being and would jump at the slightest indication of weakness on his part. He needed to stay strong, stay focused on his goal.

Everybody would be quick to believe he was changing if he gave them any indication of what he was feeling at the moment. But they were wrong, he was changing. He was just confused; he just needed to sort out a few conflicting thoughts and emotions before he'd be back on track. Until then he'd use his well-honed acting skills to ensure that they'd never know.

He couldn't let himself slip up as he had earlier. He'd almost been found out. Unacceptable. Thankfully, Rigsby had given him the perfect excuse. Rigsby had food poisoning and although Jane hadn't eaten the same thing, he was able to pass off his silence and distracted state of mind as indigestion. He'd gotten lucky with that one, a mix of the urgent case at hand and pressure from the higher-ups made sure no one questioned him about it.

As much as the rational part of his brain knew he needed to cover up this new weakness, the irrational part that was responsible for said weakness desperately wanted attention. It struggled to the forefront of his mind at the most inconvenient of times and made its presence known. If he couldn't get a grip on it, it was only a matter of time before the team realized something was up. He was surprised they hadn't figured it out already. It was painfully obvious despite his many attempts to hide it. He could only be thankful that the team couldn't hear his weakness knocking on their doors.

He had to learn how to shut it down, but obsessing over having to do so wouldn't get him anywhere. He had to start and he wasn't going to waste another moment.

_Fake it_

_Fake it_

_I'll take what I can get_

_Knocking so loud can you hear me yet?_

_Try to stay away but you can't forget_

_Year 4_

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid! How could he have been this stupid? He was supposed to be an enigma, not an open book. He was supposed to guard his secrets with an impenetrable wall and protect them with an iron-clad fist. But there he'd gone and just given them up willingly when all he'd had to do was stay away. Stay away from her.

In his defence, he hadn't been thinking. Hadn't been thinking about himself at least. He'd been thinking about her. The only person who could get him to react so thoughtlessly, so recklessly and she had to be his boss. She'd been shaken by their last case, she hid it well but he could see it. He knew that despite all protests to the contrary, she desperately needed some company that night. The only thing she needed more than company was relaxation and, fortunately for her, Jane knew how to make the two coincide delightfully.

So he'd gone to her apartment, not bothering to think of the consequences beforehand, and knocked on her door. That was his first step towards utter stupidity. No, correction, it was the second. The first was actually caring enough to consider going to her apartment to console her. But he'd done it anyway, not caring about what it meant or what it could mean. All he cared about, all that mattered was making her feel better.

He can remember what she said as if it had been but an hour ago.

"_What are you doing here Jane?"_

"_I've come to help. No tricks or cons, just comfort. Trust me." _

"_Trust you? Trust _you_? How can I trust you Jane, when everything you say is a lie? When everything that comes out of your mouth is designed to fool everyone else? So no, I won't trust you. Now get out of my house."_

"_Lisbon. Teresa, please. I know this case hit you hard. I just want to help. I have no ulterior motive here; I just want to help you relax."_

"_If you think that I'll be able to relax with you here, you've got another thing coming."_

He never could resist a challenge. When he left later that night, he'd left behind his secrets. He'd told her everything; he'd bared his soul to her. But instead of feeling naked and exposed, he felt clothed and protected. Until he'd arrived at his motel room, then he started to panic. Why, why, why had he done that? Why had he just given up his most prized possessions so easily? Well, it hadn't exactly been easy.

"_What else? What else aren't you telling me?"_

"_Easy there, Teresa. I'm getting there but, it's not easy. This isn't easy for me. I don't do this. But here I am, telling you everything. You're going to get the whole story, but I just need you to help me out a bit. Let me do this my way. It may be painfully slow, but it'll get done. Now, where was I?"_

"_Red John."_

"_Right." _

She'd helped him out alright. He had nothing left that she didn't know. There was nothing left to himself, nothing left of him. How could he have let this happen? How could he have been so stupid?

_So fall down_

_I need you to trust me_

_Go easy don't rush me _

_Help me out, why don't you help me out?_

_Year 5 _

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He stood outside the door, his hand poised to knock once more when the door opened and he was greeted with the barrel of a gun. He raised his hands in the classic "don't shoot" position.

"Jesus Jane! You scared the crap out of me!" Lisbon said, lowering her weapon. "You can't just come knocking on my bedroom door in the middle of the night! I mean, why bother? You've already gotten into my house, and you didn't need to knock to do so. So why wake me up by knocking on the bedroom door when you could have easily continued on your way without me loosing any beauty sleep?"

"I needed to talk to you." Jane said.

"I didn't think you wanted to talk. Or was there some other reason that I woke up alone?" Lisbon replied accusingly.

"I know you're angry and you have every right to be. But just hear me out. I can explain." Jane started.

"You're right, I do have the right to be mad at you but you don't have the right to explain. You lost that right when you left me— when you left in the middle of the night without a word." Lisbon's voice broke and her eyes began to water. She blinked furiously in frustration to rid her eyes of tears. She didn't want to be sad or upset, she wanted to be angry. She was so angry at him.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay." Jane said, wrapping his arms around her struggling form. He winced as her delicate fists not-so-delicately struck his shoulders, trying to shove him away. He continued to hold her until her tightly clenched fists were tightly clenching his shirt, begging him not to leave.

"I thought you weren't coming back. That you'd finally come to your senses and realised that this was a huge mistake. That you regret this, regret us." Lisbon whispered against his chest.

"Never. I'll never regret this. I knew what I was doing when we started. I knew the point of know return when we sped right past it. I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want to cross that line with you, that I don't want to keep crossing that line with you for as long as you'll let me." Jane said softly against her mane of dark hair.

"Then why'd you leave? Why would you do that to me?" Lisbon whispered, afraid of the answer but needing to ask nonetheless.

"I was afraid. Not of you or of what we were doing, but of what it meant. I needed to sort some things out, needed to clear my head. I had to get away to do this because whenever I'm around you, it's hard to think about anything but you and how much I love you." Jane whispered.

"You—you love me?" Lisbon stared up at him wide-eyed.

"Of course I do. You made it extremely hard not to." Jane said, a small smile on his face.

The tears finally fell from where she'd held them captive and she smiled for the first time in what felt like forever. He couldn't resist her when she looked at him like that. He bent his head down and gently pressed his lips to hers in a sincere caress.

_Wake you up in the middle of the night to say_

_I will never walk away again_

_I'm never going to leave this bed_

_Year 6 _

Knock. Knock. Knock.

He tries his key again, but it doesn't work this time either. He shivers slightly in the cold breeze. He looks up at the streetlamp that's long since been lit. How much longer is she going to make him wait out here? Just as the thought enters his head, the door opens and there she is, glaring up at him.

"May I come in?" He asks. "I brought food."

Her stomach growls at the thought of food and she steps aside to let him in her home. He hasn't needed permission in a long time but he doesn't mention it. Why keep digging this hole? Any more and he'll be well on his way to China. He puts the grocery bags on her kitchen counter and starts unpacking them. He can literally feel her gaze upon him from where she's lurking in the doorframe.

"You won't regret this. I'm making Thai food. Not the Americanized stuff you get at your favourite take out restaurant but the real deal. Just something I picked up in my carnie days." Jane rambles, attempting to break this heavy silence. It doesn't work.

"I didn't ask you to come here tonight. I didn't ask you to make me dinner." She says curtly. "But maybe it's a god thing you did."

"What's going on Teresa? I just came by to make you dinner like I do every Friday, only to find that the locks on the door have changed and my key won't open it." Jane says earnestly.

"Nothing's going on." Teresa says simply.

"Bullshit." Jane responds. "I know when something's up and let me tell you, something is definitely up." He barely manages to spit the words out before Teresa starts up again.

"No, nothing is going on anymore. You and I are done. Over. We are no longer a 'we' and there is no 'us'." Teresa says, her eyes darting around the room, not resting on one spot too long because she knows it'll only take one second too long and she'll forget why she's doing this. She doesn't want to, she doesn't enjoy being the bad guy, but this is a necessary evil that Jane's too cowardly to tackle himself.

"Why?" Jane asks softly. The word echoes around the room, bouncing off every surface, invading her senses until there's nothing except that one word.

"Because it's not working anymore. Hell, it never was. And I am done with this; I am done." She says, grasping the edge of the table for support and ducking her head. Her hair acts as a shield, as a physical barrier between her and the words she's saying. Anything else she could do to ease the pressure would surely put an end to it completely and she needs this done yesterday.

"What do you mean it's not working? Of course it's working. I am happier than I have been since the murders of my wife and child and you are the happiest you've been in a long time too. Don't try to deny it." Jane said, anger trickling into his voice bit by bit.

"Do I look happy to you? Do I fucking look happy?" She shouts, raising her head and whipping her hair back from her face. She's getting angry and angry is good. Angry is what she needs to go through with this so she holds onto it tightly.

"You're so happy that is scares you Teresa, because you've never been this happy. Not since before your mother died and after what happened, you're afraid to be happy. But you don't need to be afraid." Jane said calmly, soothingly.

"Don't tell me what I feel. I know what I feel and it sure as hell isn't that!" She says. She reacts violently and she knows it's because what he's saying is true. But she's never reacted well to others telling her how she feels, especially after what happened with her psychiatrist.

"Of course it is. You're having a great childhood, but then your mother dies and as soon as you start accepting it, you father prevents you from moving on because he can't. So he becomes a violent drunk and you're miserable. But then he dies and don't think it didn't affect you. It has. Then, years later when you're working at the CBI and start letting yourself be happy with me, you dear friend Bosco gets murdered by a sadistic serial killer who likes to play games. People die, Teresa, but not because you're happy. People die, but you haven't so why don't you let yourself live?" Jane says, his voice trailing off, getting softer as his monologue continues. He's been inching his way closer to her throughout the whole spiel and her notices that her eyes have watered and that she's pressing a nail into her palm, a habit she's picked up to help calm her down. He sees this and knows that he's never been more right than in this moment. He places a hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture that's brought her comfort before but it seems to have the opposite effect now.

"Well, unfortunately for you Jane, this isn't about me. It's about our relationship, if you can call it that. It's not working and you know it. Now stop grasping at straws and accept that we are over." She says, shaking off his hand and turning away. She walks back to the doorframe and leans against it.

"There's nothing wrong with our relationship Teresa." Jane starts, but she cuts him off before he can even think of what to say next.

"Of course there is Jane. This isn't how it's supposed to be. It's supposed to be about trust and love, honesty and comfort. It's supposed to be about loving someone despite their worst parts of themselves and that is not what we have here. How can I love the worst in you when you don't share it with me? You keep it hidden so I hide myself away too. I don't know what you're keeping from me but I know as sure as day that you are. I don't trust you as far as I can throw you and you feel the same about me. I can't find comfort in you and I sure as hell don't feel safe with you either. What we have isn't love either, it's a farce. So yes, there is something wrong, it's not working." Teresa says, shouting by the time she finishes and pacing back and forth. "I want you to leave Jane, I don't want you ever coming back."

"You don't mean that." Jane says in disbelief.

"Sure I do." Lisbon says, staring at him defiantly.

"No, no you don't because you know that you're wrong. You say that this isn't working, but all your reasons to support your argument don't prove it. We're different from anyone else and it's natural that our relationship will be too. We both have deeply-rooted trust issues that we're overcoming step by laborious step. I've trusted you with more than I've trusted anyone with since my wife. You've done the same, against your better judgement and it scares the shit out you, how much you trust me. Despite everything I am and everything I've done, you trust me and I you. We walked into this knowing that it wasn't going to be easy and it wasn't going to be perfect. I don't think it will ever be perfect but you and I weren't made for perfect. We don't aim for perfection, we aim to survive. And that's why you're doing this Teresa. It's not because you think that it's broken, it's because you think it's slowly getting fixed and that scares the shit out of you." Jane says. He's standing right in front of her now, forcing her to look at him while daring her to do anything but.

A single tear escapes her hold and she wipes it away furiously. This isn't what she'd planned, but with Jane it never is. She hates that he's arguing with her about this, but what she hates even more is that it's true.

"Of course it scares me." She whispers, looking wide-eyed at him, tears shimmering in her eyes, just waiting to fall.

"I know." Jane says, pulling her into his arms, mistakenly believing that this is over. She wrenches herself free from his grasp and stands at the other side of the room.

"That is why we're done. This can only end badly, causing pain to one or both of us. Why bother with anything when we both know it won't work out. Anything else is just wishful thinking we've deluded ourselves into believing." She mutters angrily. She summons her previous anger and uses it full force, feeding it into every word she says.

"You don't know that. There's no way you can know that for sure. You've always protected yourself from getting hurt and here you are now, doing what you've perfected long ago. But it's not working is it? It's too late because you're already hurting aren't you? It's killing you a little with every word you speak, trying to severe me from your life, from your heart, with words like knives. It's not going to work Teresa, it's not worth it." Jane says. In that moment he can see the defeat in her eyes, can pinpoint exactly when she decides to give up all pretences and give in to what she wanted all along.

Xxxx

Jane lay there with Lisbon in his arms, not having anywhere to be except for in the bed with her. He traced meaningless patterns down her arm, convincing himself that she was still with him.

"Thank you." Lisbon whispered into the night, knowing he'd hear.

"For what my dear?" Jane asked.

"For not giving up on us and for convincing me to do the same." She breathed.

"You're not getting rid of me that easily." Jane said. He pressed a light kiss to the crown of her head and closed his eyes; giving into the pull of sleep and feeling Teresa do the same.

_You say go it isn't working and_

_I say no, it isn't perfect_

_So I stay instead_

_I'm never going to leave this bed_

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><p><strong>I decided to lay off the cheese a bit this time, but it always manages to sneek it's way in there. Luckily I caught most of it, but hey! I'm not perfect. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this and that's really all I can do. If only there was a way for you guys to magically let me know what you thought of it... oh WAIT! There's this wonderful invention called the review button and its very user friendly! How about you give it a try? :) Until next time. :D<strong>


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